Just a Purple Kind of Day

Snow Watch has officially begun at my house. I'm pretty sure it started as soon as Little Miss woke up this morning.

So far, no sign of snow. Just a lot of rain and it's cold as hell, but we've been getting phone calls from various family members about how they're getting snow. Little Miss is starting to get very upset that we are apparently the only people in the state of Virginia without snow. Or so she says. I told her that we will probably get snow, just not right now. She asked why not? I told her that it's not cold enough. She told me to go tell God to make it cold enough for snow.

She's a sassy little thing. I think she wants to go out and play in her snowsuit that Grandmama got her this year and she's never had the chance to use because we haven't had any.

Polly isn't liking being cooped up either. She hates the rain and the cold and yet she wants to run around. So, we've created a living room obstacle course that includes stairs and jumps and tunnels and all sorts of things for the dog (and Lela) to run around in to burn off some energy.

It's pretty fun actually. And it keeps Polly from doing her newest bad habit. Ugh. I need to get lids for all of the trash cans now.

But anyway. I talked to my mother-in-law about organizing my house. Because honestly, my house needs it. She gave me a lot of tips and stuff, some of it new information, some that I already knew. But it was good information nonetheless. I've been going on nonstop about organizing the house and repainting and fixing up the house a little bit, especially since we're wanting to rent and/or sell the house sometime in the future. 

Husband thought it was funny, or so he told me the other night in the car after spending two hours in Lowe's picking out new cabinets, paints, carpets, tiles, backsplashes, countertops, and various other things. He mentioned that he thought it was funny, in a good way, about how the closer Little Miss gets to starting school, the more I focus in on getting organized at home. When I asked him if that was bad thing, he started laughing and then proceeded to tell me how proud he was that I was "growing up." 

Puh-leaze. He's such a nutbar.

Does This Make Me Weird?

Got the information for our health insurance plan today. We've got a bunch of forms and of course the booklet with all the information about it.

Am I weird that I know that I'm going to end of reading that cover to cover so I know EVERYTHING about our policy?

I'm sure that means that I'm actually being a responsible adult, but I don't know. To some people, it might be weird.

Hm.

Oh, and on a side note, Polly learned a new trick today.

No, not sit (which she does when she feels like it), Off (doesn't work at all, she keeps jumping on my furniture when she's not invited), or Down (she's never done down), but one that is apparently SOO MUCH MORE FUN.

See, I was taking her for her walk. It's raining and muddy and my driveway is slick, seeing as it's well, mud. So, naturally, I slip and land on my butt in the mud, while wearing Husband's fleece pajama pants, but hey, he wasn't home and they're comfy. I still have a hand on Polly's leash, because I will not let that go when we're outside, simply because I don't want her to bolt and get hit by a truck and/or chase her a half mile down the street again.

Polly looks at me, then sees a puppy, who has frequented our yard recently, but we unfortunately haven't caught her, at the end of our driveway and bolts. With me still attached to the other end of the leash.

So Polly's new trick is this: If I fall in the mud and she bolts before I can get back up, she can drag me through the driveway. That is, until we hit the gravel. I managed to get traction there. And bloody up my knee.

Little Miss thought it was HILARIOUS. So did Husband, when he called from work to ask how my day was. The only thing he was concerned about was if I had put a hole in his pants.

Maybe it won't be so bad being alone after Little Miss goes to school after all.

School Day Blues

I have recently come realize something that is a) motivating me and b) making me sad (not that it takes much to make me sad nowadays).

Little Miss starts school this August. August 12, to be precise. And I'm realizing that the time we spend together (all day, every day) and do all sorts of fun things together is coming to an end. I mean, we'll spend time with each other, but not as much as we do now.

I'm proud in a way. I've managed to keep a human being alive and well for this long. I've taught her numbers, letters, colors. I've taught her to love herself, to be kind, to think for herself. And trust me, at four, she doesn't want anyone thinking for her. But I can't help but think that soon, my days will be quiet. I won't have to watch Spongebob or Garfield or Dora all day long if I don't want to. I can run errands without taking ten minutes at each stop trying to convince a very stubborn little girl to get out of the car. I can clean my house without having it be destroyed five minutes later. I can go to the gym and for walks and out to lunch with friends if I so choose.

But I know I'm going to miss having my little shadow tag along. How I won't have anyone to cuddle (well, besides the kitty boys and the dog) in the afternoons when the world is gray and wet. How I'm going to be watching the clock, counting down the hours until she steps off of that school bus and comes home.

I'm starting to think that the transition from home to school will be easier for her than it will be for me. She loves going out, meeting new people. She's shy at first, but then really turns into this little social butterfly that loves everything and everyone. She will have no trouble making friends, I'm pretty sure.

I know it's January and I still have several months to spend with her. But on this dreary, wet, cold, gloomy Wednesday, where she turned down cuddling and movies to go play in her room without me, the realization hit me hard.

My tough talk about how I can't wait for her to go to school is a ruse. I dread her going to school. I wish she'd stay little and want to be with me forever, yet I know that it's impossible.

Tonight's Public Service Announcement to my In-Laws

When you call someone up and try to have a conversation with them, the right thing to do is to NOT yell at the person you're talking to before they finish answering your question.

If you had shut your hole and LISTENED then MAYBE you wouldn't have had anything to get your panties all in a wad over.

I know it's a radical idea. Yet another scheme from the crazy liberal.

But really. It works.

Trust me. I know that's hard for you to do, because I obviously live with my head in the ground and am so naive that I don't know which way is up, but you can trust me. I promise I am not a complete idiot.

Hello, insomnia.

It's 6:07 am and I can't sleep. I've got a dog in my lap, the heater blaring, and the knowledge that every other
person and animal in this house is asleep except me.

Damn it, this week is going to be the death of me. I don't want to have to deal with the fact that one year ago I lost Joan. I don't want to deal with her death at all.

I got into a conversation with the Husband a couple nights ago, but dealing with it. About growing past it, instead of being stuck in this perpetual grief cycle. He asked what I did with the pain, the grief. I told him the truth.

I imagine the pain being packed neatly in a cardboard box, being taped up and then shoved somewhere where I don't see it. But this box seems to be growing bigger and bigger and is taking up the whole room. The pain inside is so raw that even if all I do is peek inside, I end up huddled into a ball, sobbing.

He told me I needed to go ahead and open it. And once again, I told him the truth. I can't.

I can't bring myself to open it. That means dealing with the fact that it's been a year and I keep trying to call her. I will go out of my way just to avoid driving past her house. I refuse to go to restaurants that her and I ate at all the time, just because I don't want to go there without her. That it's not fair that Little Miss asks me when can she see Joan and the most I can give her is a picture.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. I hate this. I hate not being able to see her, to hear her. I hate the fact that I knew she wanted the surgery so I pushed for it. I managed to get everyone to see it my way, her way. And then she died after having it. Does that make it my fault?

I hate the fact that the last time I saw her, she was hooked up to ventilators and machines and how when I went over to grasp her hand, she opened her eyes but couldn't say anything because of the tubes in her throat.

I hate the fact that my aunts, her FUCKING SISTERS, had already gone through all of her belongings and were in the process of moving them out BEFORE she passed away. How they threw out all of her photo albums. How they quickly put my grandmother into a home after that. How selfish and controlling they are about every little fucking thing. How they admitted how they were glad that didn't have to deal with Joan and Granny anymore, that they were inconvenienced by them.

Fuck them. Fuck this. Fuck this whole entire year without you, Joan.

I just want you back.

Please, come home.

Resolutions

It's that time of year again! Resolution time!

1) I want Little Miss to start doing chores. She's four, and more than able to do little things around the house.  Perhaps incentives like Bounce n Play or a trip to the movies would get her to help more? Hm.

2) Get this house re-done. Probably not all the way, but at least up to snuff so that we can put it on the market.

3) Lose weight. (I know, this had to be on the list sometime).

Those are the big three, I think. Oh! And

4) Get organized!!!

I have to be the most disorganized person on the planet. So that's a BIG one for me.

But anywho, Happy New Year everyone! May 2013 be a great one!